


Salute to the Newest Recruit

by ChuGottaWay



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 23:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17651498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuGottaWay/pseuds/ChuGottaWay
Summary: Launchpad was recently hired by McDuck Industries as Scrooge McDuck's personal chauffeur. Yet within a few hours of being on the job, he has been forced to fight with the supernatural - a ghost that stole his dinner.





	Salute to the Newest Recruit

The garage must be haunted, Launchpad thought. How else could his chicken sandwich have disappeared within a few minutes?

 

No one told him the garage was haunted. Surely, Mr. McDuck would have told him about ghosts in the workplace. On second thought, Mr. McDuck didn’t tell him anything at all. “See you tomorrow, then,” were the only instructions Launchpad had received from him. A bit vague, but Launchpad assumed that must have been Rich Duck Speak for _Wonderful! A perfect recruit! I’m so happy to hire you!_

 

He didn’t tell Launchpad to move into his garage. No one told Launchpad to move anywhere. But seeing as he didn’t have a home after his former landlord raised the rent out of his price range, a garage seemed like the perfect and cozy alternative. Hey, the garage may even have heat during the winter sometimes! That’s already a plus. So, since no one told him not to move into the garage, Launchpad decided that it was acceptable to take the opportunity.

 

Ghosts, though? Chicken sandwich-stealing ghosts, at that. Launchpad was never terribly fond of the supernatural, particularly of the kind that he couldn’t see. He hadn’t even unpacked all his boxes yet, but now he had to worry that the ghosts might thieve his combo VCR/DVD player.

 

The next day was a bit rough. Mr. McDuck told him that all damages to the limo would be taken out of his paycheck. There would be no vacations. No paid sick leave. Definitely no parental leave. The only excuse Launchpad had to not show up and drive him to the Money Bin was if Launchpad had become so permanently mangled that he could not drive the car. In which case, Scrooge declared, he would be fired. While the conditions weren’t ideal, the benefit of a having a rent-free home couldn’t be overlooked. Even if infested with gluttonous ghosts, this was the best job perk Launchpad ever had.

 

That evening, Launchpad tested the waters again. He placed his Lo Mein on top of the breaker box. He turned around to unpack and finish arranging his living room when he heard the same noise again – _plat, plat, plat, plat_.

 

Launchpad looked up. It seemed to be coming from the A/C vent. Is that how ghosts travel? Did they come from the outside? Suddenly, the pitter-patter stopped. He saw a small hand reach down to get the Lo Mein.

 

Well then. Launchpad might as well say hello.

 

“Hey there!” Launchpad said, his voice booming so that the ghost in the vent might hear him. “You live here too? I’m new to this place. You like Chinese food?”

 

The ghost must have been startled because after the arm brought the Lo Mein carton up into the vent, it dropped a small doll. He then heard the small ghost frantically speed its way through the vent again.

Once the ghost was gone, Launchpad crept over the breaker to pick up the plush doll. It looked like a tiny duck girl, dressed in all pink. Most likely homemade. While Launchpad didn’t want to make too many judgments, he wondered if the ghost in the vent might be a girl. Maybe he could buy her dinner again tomorrow and place the doll on top of the food container. For now, Launchpad reasoned, maybe it would be best if the doll sat next to his Darkwing bobblehead on his dresser. The ghost wouldn’t want her doll to be lonely, right?  

 

The ghost couldn’t wait until the next day. In the middle of the night, Launchpad heard the pitter-patter in the vent again, along with occasional sniffles and sobs. He heard the creak of the A/C vent opening and a distinct _thump_. He didn’t watch horror movies enough to know what to do next, but he figured getting out of bed and grabbing a flashlight was a good start. He looked down from upstairs.

 

Still weeping, the ghost started to overturn boxes and car parts. It was hard to see in the dark, but Launchpad saw the small blurry figure make its way to his VCR. He turned on his flashlight. “Hey! Are you lost?”

 

The ghost shrieked and fell into his prized Darkwing Duck VHS collection. Launchpad panicked.

 

“Wait! Wait! No, don’t cry! I have your doll! Don’t be scared. You’re the ghost, not me!”

 

He turned on the light switch and raced downstairs to make sure that the ghost was okay.

 

What were little sniffles at first had turned into full-out wails. Launchpad’s heart sank. He never liked hearing a small girl cry. Instinctively, he picked her up and cradled her on the couch.

 

“It-It’s okay, sweetie. Your doll is okay. I made sure that Darkwing is protecting her. No more tears, okay? I was going to place it on the breaker box tomorrow.”

 

Once the girl finished bawling on his shoulder, she wiped her tears and snot on his pajama shirt and moved back. Launchpad finally could get a better look at her. The girl looked to be no more than seven years old and was wearing as much pink as her doll, complete with a matching hair bow.

 

“I’m sorry I stole your food,” she croaked. “Granny doesn’t let me eat junk food, so when I – I – I…”

 

“You can take a deep breath, kiddo,” Launchpad said. She did.

 

“I’ve been watching you through the vents,” she continued. “Granny doesn’t like it when I leave the mansion much. But I heard Mr. McDuck hired you and I wanted to know why.”

 

Launchpad was taken aback. “Why? Well, it must be because I’m the greatest driver he’s ever seen!”

 

The girl tilted her head to the side. “No, it’s not that,” she said.

 

Launchpad really didn’t need that blow to his self-esteem. “Uh, so why do you think I was hired?”

 

The little girl lunged forward, squinting her eyes as though she were scanning him. “Do you know Donald Duck? His nephews? Do you have a secret sordid past with Scrooge McDuck? Were you a business associate of his back in the 1970’s?”

 

With an uneasy smile, he gingerly placed the girl on the seat beside him. “Uh, no. No? Pretty sure that’s a no. Oh, and I’m twenty-seven, so again, no.”

 

The little girl continued to scrutinize him in silence.

 

“So, what’s your na-“ Launchpad started to ask in an attempt to break the tension, but the girl stopped him.

 

“Everyone Scrooge McDuck hires is important to him for some reason. He hasn’t hired anyone new in seven years. Duckworth died last month, so he had to hire a new chauffeur but he wouldn’t hire just anyone…” she suddenly stopped her conspiratorial rant. “Oh! Hi, I’m Webby! Sorry, Mr. McQuack. I should have told you that first. Granny is teaching me etiquette and I’m trying not to be impolite.”

 

“Oh, it’s all right,” Launchpad said with a grin. “Call me Launchpad. Mr. McQuack is my father.” He laughed at his own lame joke. “Your granny sounds like an important lady, huh? Is she that one who looks after Mr. McDuck?”

 

Webby stood up on the couch, her eyes shining with pride. “Yeah! She’s really cool. She takes care of me and teaches me everything. Some of the other people who work for Mr. McDuck are nice too. Ms. Quackfaster is in charge of the archive and she chases me away whenever I break in. Gyro Gearloose is in charge of the laboratory and he yells at me when I sneak past and talks about how much he hates kids. Duckworth died last month but he still comes back every week to clean my room.”

 

Launchpad eyes widened at that last sentence. “Oh. Are there a lot of ghosts like you in the manor?”

 

“Like me?” Webby asked. “I’m not a ghost.” She laughed at the very idea. “But Duckworth is! Maybe if you ask him nicely he’ll clean up your room.” She jumped off the couch and looked around at all the boxes and strewn about VHS tapes. 

 

“The doll!” Launchpad said. “You came here for your doll, right? Let me go get her.”

 

He went upstairs to fetch her doll off his dresser while she stacked his Darkwing tapes.

 

Once she was done, he handed her the doll. “Here she is!”

 

Webby cheered and hugged the doll with all her might. “My Quackypatch!” She spun around and knocked the stack of VHS tapes behind her again. “Oh no! I’m so sorry, Mr. McQua- ah, Launchpad.”

 

Launchpad waved it off. “That’s fine. Don’t worry. It was nice meeting you, Webby. You’re the first person here who’s been happy to speak to me.”

 

Webby smiled. “Me too! Well, outside of Granny, of course.”

 

“Do you want me to drive you back to the mansion?”

 

“No, that’s okay.” Webby climbed up the breaker box. “I can go back to my room this way.”

 

Launchpad saluted her. “All right. Get back safe, okay? I can buy you a hamburger next time.”

 

Webby giggled. “Yes! I can’t wait!” She jumped up into the vents and Launchpad made sure to listen until her footsteps were gone before he went back to bed.

 

When he woke up the next morning, he found a note next to his Darkwing bobblehead.

 

_NO JUNK FOOD._

**Author's Note:**

> It always makes me sad to hear how lonely Webby was before the triplets arrived. I refuse to believe that she never tried to befriend the staff at McDuck Manor. Furthermore, I also refuse to believe that Launchpad would knowingly ignore a lonely little girl who had no friends. Thus, my Fix-It fic.


End file.
